


How the Devil Takes his Toll (when you go walking through that flame)

by LaDolceVita



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Torture, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDolceVita/pseuds/LaDolceVita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of A Fractured House (2x06) Skye is sent to Senator Christian Ward undercover as a journalist to gather intel. She learns a lot more than she bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Metre at a Time We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at writing fanfic, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged.  
> Please let me know if I use the tags incorrectly and I'll fix it asap.  
> Only one chapter will be particularly heavy on the violence and I'll put the appropriate warnings and triggers in the notes again when we get to it.  
> Hope you like it!

“Senator Ward, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”

“The pleasure is all mine Miss Masters.”

“Please,” she said with her most flirtatious smile, “Call me Skye.”

 

**_LOCATION: The Playground_ **

**_Five hours earlier…_ **

 

She stood in the doorway and the meeting room fell silent. The team took in her white, fitted blouse tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt with a blue blazer to complete the ensemble.  Fitz’s jaw actually dropped. Skye shuffled uncomfortably on her matching blue heels until a low whistle diffused the tension.

“Damn girl, you scrub up _good_.”

She laughed and took a mocking bow, “Thanks Trip.”

“Goodness Skye, it’s hardly even a full disguise, yet the change is remarkable!” Jemma exclaimed.

“Not quite finished though, wait for it-” with a flourish Skye took a pair of thick, black horn-rimmed glasses from her pocket and perched them on her nose. “Ta da!”

“Wait, w-what about the new Icer? The one made from the- the stuff- the stuff that’ll umm, you know, get by the, umm… the…” Fitz tapped his foot on the floor, running a trembling hand through his hair.

“The ceramic one?” Jemma supplied, tentatively. “To get past the metal detectors?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, avoiding his lab-partner’s eyes. “You can’t keep that in your purse, so where… Umm, where…?” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Skye.

“Fitz, don’t worry, I’ve already got it on me, it’s perfect!” Skye rushed to reassure the engineer. “May leant me her holster and it’s so light I barely notice it.”

“Yeah, but where....?”

Skye raised an eyebrow and Fitz flushed bright red, resisting the urge to glance at her legs.

“ _Oh_.”

She chuckled, “there’s a reason it had to be small.”

May scrutinised Skye’s new look and seemed to approve, but it was always hard to tell with her.

“The kansashi are a risk,” she said, eyeing the two long, decorative pins holding back Skye’s hair. “Your knife throwing skills are improving, but you can’t rely on them alone.”

“I know, but this is just a quick intel-gathering op, I should be in and out within an hour. They’re metal so security may even take them, but I figured that they might come in handy if I’m backed into a corner. I have the Icer too, _and_ the stilettos, but I’ll only need those if disaster strikes.”

Coulson frowned.

“And you’re sure everything will check out if researches your cover?”

“Yes sir, I spent a full week constructing the website for Skye Masters’ small, independent, online publication, dedicated to political reporting, complete with corresponding social media presences that, if anyone digs, will look like they’ve been up and running for years.”

“Geez darling, have you _slept_?” Hunter looked torn between impressed and incredulous.

“Sleep is for the weak,” she teased, but quietly hoped that no one had been noticing the growing bags under eyes. She’d been taking great care each morning to cover them up these past few months.

“Now are you sure about this? Bobbi was more then willing to-”

“I’ll be _fine_ Coulson. This isn’t my first rodeo you know, I’ve been scamming rich douchebags since before I could hack.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Nope,” she grinned, popping the ‘P’.

“Ok, Hunter’s going to pose as your taxi driver and he’ll hang around the block until you’re done. We’ll be on comms-”

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can listen, but no talking. Like I said, I’ve done this before and if I’m going to interrogate this guy I’ll need to be completely in the zone, which I can’t do if you’re all nattering away in my ear. Keep your microphone mute unless there’s a complete emergency. Please.”

Coulson looked less than pleased but nodded tersely. He then leaned in close and murmured so that only she could hear, “This isn’t just some smug politician Skye, you can’t let anything that’s happened with War-”

“ _I know_ ,” she hissed. “I can do this Coulson.”

The Director looked down at her set jaw and unwavering scowl before sighing in defeat. He offered her a small smile.

“I know you can.”

Her determined glare melted into an equally determined smile with a speed and sincerity that was just so incredibly _Skye_.

“Alrighty then,” Skye clapped her hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Coulson knew Skye was capable, and he’d walked away from the Senator with ease. So why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

 

**_LOCATION: Washington D.C._ **

**_TIME: 1030 hours_ **

 

“Please, take a seat,” Senator Christian Ward ushered her towards two armchairs in the corner of his office before unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket, settling into one by the window and meeting her eyes with a piercing gaze she couldn’t quite read.

“I understand you’re a busy man so let’s get straight to business. Do I have your permission to record this conversation?”

“Of course.”

His smile was so charming that for the briefest second Skye was caught off guard. Not because she was genuinely warming to him, but because it was _so unlike Ward_. Even before – before, when she was his just his rookie, when he’d laugh over board games, when he’d gently wrap her hands for boxing, when he’d look at her like… well, when it was simpler – even then, ‘ _charming’_ was never a word she would’ve applied to her former S.O.

Clearing her throat and fixing her mind on the task, she retrieved her hand-held recorder and switched it on, placing it on the coffee table between them.

“Please state your full name and position.”

“Senator Christian Ward.”

Even for something so brief and simple he spoke with a steady cadence and the finesse of a born orator.

“Okay, Senator Ward, the focus of my feature is how you’ve become the political powerhouse you are today. Something of an origin story, if you will.”

She crossed her legs and leaned forward, well-aware of how her skirt slid higher up her thigh, the pantyhose rubbing against her skin and her concealed weapon shifting so as to remain unseen between her legs. The Senator’s fleeting glance at the exposed skin did not escape her attention, and although his smile remained impassive, Skye smirked.

_This will be oh so easy_ , she thought.

She was wrong.

**TBC**


	2. There’s a Monster in My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye's undercover interview with the Senator appears successful to those listening in, but something about this guy just doesn't feel right to her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys :)
> 
> In case anyone thinks Christian Ward was out of character here, I intentionally had him speak very differently about his brothers and Thomas' death(?) because I believe he'd tell a very different version of events to a pretty young journalist than to Coulson, a man in a position he considers threatening. I think it would be better publicity for him to sell the story of his brother the traitor as a tragedy, rather than "he was a sadistic monster from the start", which was more effective for preventing any sympathy from Coulson towards Grant.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy chapter two!

**_LOCATION: The Playground_ **

**_TIME: 1100_ ** _**hours.**_

 

Skye’s laugh echoed through the control room – high-pitched and fake to the ears of her teammates, but genuine enough to fool the senator.

“Girl’s good, she should consider more undercover work,” Trip smirked while Senator Ward told Skye the recycled and over-sentimentalised account of how he wooed his wife.

“Sometimes I forget that she was practically on the streets before she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.” Simmons spoke without looking up from her tablet. “It makes sense that between the orphanage, foster homes and the Rising Tide she’s become so adaptable.”

 

**_LOCATION: Washington D.C._ **

**_TIME: 1115_ ** _**hours.**_

 

“You’ve built up this beautiful home life for yourself, but we’re going to go deeper now and take a look at what’s made you into the man you are today. It’s well known that you come from something of a political dynasty, so there must have been a lot of pressure and expectation in your childhood?”

“Oh absolutely,” Christian responded with the practiced ease of a politician, using all the right language for discussing deceased parents who were, he claimed, “tough but fair” and who “only aspired for us to be our best”.

Skye had to quash the urge to roll her eyes more than once.

“…because Grant was such a disappoint-“

“Grant?”

Skye was suddenly very aware of the grandfather clock ticking behind her as the Senator’s dark eyes bore straight into hers.

_Shit_.

She cleared her throat and gave a sheepish smile, thinking on her feet.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve surprised me Senator. I thought I was going to have to butter you up a lot more before getting to the… _less comfortable_ portion of the interview.”

It wasn’t until she saw his shoulders relax slightly that Skye realised how tense the Senator must have been. And yet that genial smile was still locked in place. It was starting to unnerve her.

“Ah, of course. The fugitive younger brother... I had expected this at some point.” He spoke with a practiced blend of reluctance and candour. This man made rhetoric sound like an art.

“Well by all means, start at the beginning.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at the device on the coffee table masquerading as a voice recorder. The team could hear everything through her coms, but Fitz and Mack had thrown together a small device for scanning wifi channels. Skye had equipped it with a virus she wrote especially: it would give the team complete access to everything the senator had stored on his computer network, providing a head start if he planned to go back on the delicate deal he’d struck with SHIELD before Ward had undermined everything with his recent escape. The light continued blinking red, which meant it needed more time, so Skye plunged ahead in her questioning.

“What did you mean by ‘disappointing’?”

He let out a long sigh and looked off to the side with just a hint of melancholia. It seemed a little much to Skye.

“Well, when we were kids he was always so _weak_.”

Skye blinked.

“Weak? How so?”

“He was quiet, never spoke up, never showed any aptitude for leadership, was always more of a follower - happy to just stand by and let things happen around him without ever stepping up, never trying to help.”

_“I’m just trying to help.”_

Skye shifted in her seat.

“What was your relationship like?”

“Strained. I always tried to guide him, to teach him how to be a real man. The kind of man who could live up to the name, make our family proud. But I think he always resented that our parents overlooked him. I was more of a people-person, even at a young age, and they figured I was the safer investment, so to speak.”

“What about your other siblings, how did they fit into the dynamic?”

He paused before answering and Skye could’ve sworn she saw something in his eyes. A flash of… _something_. Before she could put her finger on what that look reminded her of, it was already gone. She crossed her legs the other way.

“Grant was particularly close with Tommy, but when we were young there was a… _tragic_ accident. Tommy fell down the old well behind our house and drowned. He was barely nine. He and Grant were roughhousing – you know how young boys are – and Grant just froze, didn’t react quickly enough, and poor Tommy was left struggling until he couldn't tread water anymore. Grant barely spoke to anyone afterwards. Guilt, I think.”

 

Unbidden images rose to mind as Skye couldn’t help but remember –

_A wary glance. A sudden, forced smile._

_“Skye, hand me the bottle.”_

_“Okay Turbo, but you’re still nursing the one you’ve got.”_

_A meaningful look._

_“I’m not the only one.”_

_A strong arm ushers her out of the way. A body placed before her like a shield. The first thing at hand becomes a weapon._

_All in a matter of seconds._

Grant Ward _not_ reacting? Skye had been expecting – hell, _looking for_ \- some damning childhood stories concerning her former S.O. He was many things: a murderer, a traitor, a blind follower to a madman... But the idea of Grant Ward being a _bystander_ was just absurd.

“And your sister?”

“I’m sorry Miss Masters, but I believe we’re out of time.”

She glanced at the clock behind her with a start.

“So we are.”

“Do you have enough material for your piece?”

She turned back with a smile

“Yes, this has been perfect, thank you.”

“And just in time too by the look of it,” the Senator said gesturing towards the fake recorder, where the yellow ‘Low Battery’ light was blinking – signaling that the hack and subsequent download were successful. Skye’s smile widened. They both stood up. The oldest Ward brother held out his hand.

When Skye reached for it she almost gasped – his grip was much tighter than before – and his dark, unreadable eyes bore straight into hers. Something shifted in his gaze and her stomach clenched. This feeling, the strange, unsettled feeling washed over her with something akin to familiarity. But it wasn’t about Ward. No, this instinct ran much deeper than that still-raw betrayal. She pulled her hand away to readjust her fake glasses. Their eyes stayed locked together.

“I’ll be sure to let your office know when the article goes online.”

He slowly looked her up and down, as if seeing her properly for the first time. Her disguise suddenly felt foolish and ill-fitting, despite meeting even May’s high standard of approval.

“I can- I can see myself out. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time, Senator, sir.”

His lip curled. It was no longer the calm, restrained smile of a man who charms for a living. Instead it practically sang _I know something you don’t know._

“I look forward to reading your work, Skye.”

The door clicked shut behind her and she wasted no time.

 

Heels clicking briskly on the polished floorboards, Skye tried desperately to clear her mind, grasping at the Tai Chi exercises May had taught her to get her breathing under control.

_One step after the other, Skye. Just breathe in… and breathe out… C’mon, you’re almost there…_

She waited until she was in the stairwell, alone, before tapping her coms.

“Skye, what happened? Your heart rate’s going through the roof, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, there’s just something really off with this guy-

“Well yeah, of course, we already knew that what with him being Ward’s brother and all.”

“ _No_ , this isn’t about him! I think-”

A door slammed.

“Skye?”

An echoing _THUD_ followed by brief scuffling.

“ _Skye!_ ”

Then only static filled the air.

 

**TBC: _The team might have been listening in, but someone else was watching..._**


	3. It's another dog in a foreign land

**_LOCATION: Washington D.C._ **

**_TIME: 1015 hours._ **

 

The room was completely bare and lined with concrete, even the slightest movement echoed like a gunshot.

It was silent.

Perched on a milk crate by the only uncovered window, Grant Ward adjusted the scope of his sniper rifle. Breath slow and even, he didn’t make a sound. It didn’t matter that his only company in the condemned building were a handful of rats on the lower floors; he was used to being invisible.

The former office building fell into disrepair after the owner went bankrupt two years prior, and its position across the road and one block up from a certain senator’s office made Ward wonder briefly if luck was on his side for a change.

 

He was biding his time, observing his brother, waiting for… well, he wasn’t sure exactly. More than once Christian’s smug face was lined up neatly in his crosshairs and Ward’s trigger finger _itched_. It would have been so easy.

Too easy.

That bastard didn’t deserve an easy way out.

And besides, Ward couldn’t stomach the idea of giving his brother the notoriety and instant idol status that’s lavished upon targets of assassination. No. Ward was going to be patient this time, he was going to-

A woman climbed out of a cab in front of Christian’s offices.

He inhaled sharply and it echoed around him.

She turned and leaned over to speak with the driver. As she nodded the morning light set fire to the golden highlights in her dark hair, held back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were obscured by the reflections in a pair of thick-framed glasses and her slight frame was dressed in the professional garb of a high-powered lawyer or businesswoman.

But the way her shoulders were set? The determined crinkle in her brow? He’d recognise her anywhere.

“ _Skye_ ,” he breathed.

And those bare walls chorused her name.

 

It wasn’t long before he saw her ushered into the very last place she should be. Christian’s office. Ward’s hands tightened on the rifle. His trigger finger was definitely itchier than usual today, but he knew he had to wait; he didn’t know anything about her mission and interfering could end badly for all involved. Not that he could really do much. From his particular position Ward was able to see Skye perfectly, but Christian was completely obscured by that damn high-backed leather armchair.

_How fucking pretentious._

Ward was well practiced at seeing the truth behind Christian’s pleasant, politician’s demeanor, so seeing his face would have given him an advantage incase things went south. A clear shot would’ve been useful too… But he couldn’t deny that it was great to actually _see_ Skye, and least this way he knew she was okay.

In a matter of minutes Ward realised she was in an interview. For a job? No. She seemed to be asking the questions, which meant she was posing as a journalist. A common ploy and simple enough, she could be out within an hour, two at most. Ward briefly wondered who that ‘taxi driver’ was – Trip? May? Surely they wouldn’t send her into the lion’s den without the best extraction plan possible?

_Of course_ , the voice in the back of his head nagged, _You’re forgetting that they think_ you’re _the lion. What reason do they have to fear Christian? They already think he’s more trustworthy than you…_

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, returning his focus to Skye. She was smiling up at Christian through her lashes, leaning forward with her head tilted at an angle, as if she were rapt with attention. She’d crossed her long, tanned legs, clearly showing them off.

His jaw clenched.

He took a deep breath, compartmentalised that nasty, jealous instinct and blinked slowly. When he re-surveyed the seen he realised: it wasn’t a seduction tactic. No, it was far too subtle and passive for that. She was using her body language to appear meek and available, encouraging her mark to relax and speak more openly with her. It was a page taken directly from _The_ _Black Widow’s Guide to Espionage, Undercover and Emotional Manipulation_. She was fiddling with her hair now, a textbook sign of nerves being played off as ‘ _you’re so impressive and intimidating, please tell me more_ ’. Bittersweet pride filled his chest: his Rookie was doing just fine without him.

 

The better part of an hour slid by while Ward watched Skye smile and flirt with his older brother. Conflicting emotions stirred within him, but the lack of clear and present danger soothed the underlying fear.

And then, Skye blinked. Smiled even wider. Everything froze.

Something was off.

He’d seen that look once before. Back then that tight smile hadn’t sat right with him, but he’d told himself he was imagining things, that she was nervous about…

_“‘Us’ is a strong word.”_

He knew better now.

She crossed her legs the opposite way. Fussed with her hair again.

_Something is wrong._

She was still talking, still nodding, she hadn’t lost track of the interview – only now there was an awareness in her eyes and Ward realised: Christian wasn’t fooling Skye. On some deep, instinctual level, _she knew_ what he was.

The idea should have filled him with relief. Cold dread washed over him instead.

They stood. Shook hands. Skye looked up into Christian’s eyes.

A moment passed between them, fuelled with a tense energy palpable even to Ward several buildings away.

She left, and Christian closed his office door. Turned. Smirked. Picked up the phone.

If Skye could see past Christian’s façade to catch even a glimpse of the monster within… Then Christian had most certainly seen through her.

Ward was out the door before Christian’s call could even connect.

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos guys, it means a lot to me :)
> 
> Btw, chapter titles are lyrics from the song 'Milk & Sticks' by Boy & Bear.


	4. There's an Animal Screaming Down My Neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, I've been travelling a bit over the past few weeks. Thank you so much for all the encouragement, it really means I lot to me and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this new chapter :)

_A long hallway._

_Shadows loom._

_Plates smash._

_“Stupid bitch!”_

_SLAP_

_Silence falls._

_She holds her breath._

_For the first time in her life she longs for St. Agnes’._

_The man approaches the woman again – slowly, so very slowly – and the girl thinks of big cats stalking trembling prey on tv._

_“Now look at what you made me do.”_

_His voice is soft now. Kind. If she hadn’t seen it herself through the crack in her door, she never would’ve believed that the same man shouted all those horrible things a few minutes ago._

_He reaches for his wife._

_The girl gasps._

_And as he turns his cold, quiet smile at her, the girl’s blood runs cold…_

**_LOCATION: Unknown_ **

**_TIME: Unknown_ **

The memory faded. Skye felt like she was struggling to reach the surface of a dark sea within her own mind. Her neck hurt, her arms were numb. She must’ve slept funny. Without opening her eyes she groaned and shifted, then froze. Cold, smooth tiles lay beneath her. She wasn’t in her bed.

She stayed completely still, calming her breathing and wracking her brain to remember what May taught her to do in a situation like this. However, it wasn’t May’s voice that came to mind…

_“If you ever wake up somewhere unfamiliar, never open your eyes until your other senses have told you absolutely everything they can about your surroundings. As soon as you move or open your eyes your captors will know for sure that you’re awake and you’ll lose valuable time for evaluating your surroundings and strategising a way out.”_

There were a lot of unpleasant things Skye could say about the ex-agent, but she couldn’t deny that his lessons have proven useful.

She pushed the panic aside and focused.

Was this a bathroom? She was definitely lying on tiles, and now that she was more aware she could also feel tiles on the wall at her back through the cotton of her blouse. Nausea tugged at her stomach. Someone had removed her blazer. And her shoes, but not her pantyhose; she could feel it between the skin of her legs and the floor. Something else was missing, but what? And why was something nagging at her about her legs-

_The icer._

The icer and its holster were no longer strapped to her thigh. _Dammit_.

Her hair was loose and sprawled beneath her head, which meant the kansashi were gone. Had she even gotten a chance to use any of the weapons secreted on her body? She couldn’t remember.

Skye squashed every instinct she had telling her to wriggle her fingers so they could regain feeling, and once the pins-and-needles subsided nausea washed over her anew when she felt cool, thick metal around her wrists.

Handcuffs?

No, far too thick and heavy.

_Okay, okay_ , she thought. _Stay calm, and now listen_.

The only breathing she could hear was her own. She was alone, for now.

_But that doesn’t mean you’re not being watched._

Anything else?

No traffic, no talking, no ticking of clocks – just her own shaking breath and pounding heart.

_Wait_ … Humming? Yes, a slight mechanical humming. God she hoped it was a computer, but didn’t dare to believe she could be so lucky.

And smell? Something strong and chemical, almost like…

Bleach.

 

_Oh._

 

Skye didn’t need her eyes to tell her that _this was bad_.

 

 

 

Skye wasn’t sure how long she’d lain there, drawing shaky breaths and maintaining a semi-meditative state to retain her focus – Minutes? Hours? Days? – but she just barely managed not to flinch when the door opened slowly with a creaking noise that broke the silence and rose the hairs on her neck.

It shut with a soft _click_.

All movement ceased.

She knew he was there. Skye could barely hear his quiet breathing over her own, but she could _feel_ him; as if his very presence had made the air somehow colder or heavier so that it pressed down on her, threatening to choke and to crush…

“I had Tiffany clear my schedule, so by all means, take your time.”

His voice seemed smoother than she remembered from the interview. All honeyed up as if he’d sated himself on sweets. Or was about to.

Quiet footsteps.

The scrape of a chair.

The silence stretched on longer this time.

“You put up an impressive fight. I actually had no idea you were with Shield until you started pulling weapons on my men. Clever little gun you had there.”

 

She remembered now what had transpired in that stairwell. It had come back to her in drips and drabs as she’d remained perfectly still on those cold tiles for what felt like both an eternity and mere minutes at once.

 

She remembered how she’d thrown her earpiece to the ground, scuffling to crush it under her shoe before that beefcake-goon could reach her. She didn’t want anything tying her to Shield if they caught her – what a waste if she’d already given herself away by fighting back. She then clambered away from him down the stairs as he lunged, whipping one of the kansashi from her hair and throwing it as soon as she had enough distance. He swore as the long, thin, metal projectile embedded itself in his shoulder, two inches above the heart and a little too far to the left. A messy shot. Skye knew she couldn’t rely on that to slow him down.

Trying not to trip as she ran down the stairs, Skye began to curse her wardrobe choices, particularly May’s holster: well hidden, less accessible.

_This is a major-fucking-design-flaw that I’ll be bringing up as soon as I’m out of here_ , she thought while scrabbling for the hem of her skirt.

She’d only just managed to pull the icer from its holster when a second henchman appeared on the landing in front of her. She collided with him head-on and shot him point-blank in the stomach.

Her victory was fleeting.

He’d been grasping at her sleeve as the icer knocked him out and had managed to pull Skye off balance. She tumbled down to the following landing, giving the first henchman enough time to catch up. Skye realised with dismay as he loomed on the stairs above her that she’d dropped the damn icer when she fell. She couldn’t even see it.

She reached for her final weapon, the second kansashi, and her hair tumbled out of its disheveled bun. She scrambled to her feet, kicked off her heels and stood her guard. The kansashi didn’t have enough grip to be used as a proper knife in hand-to-hand combat, but Skye knew that if she threw it and missed again, she’d be done for.

It would have to do.

The goon slowed to step over his fallen comrade, a grin spreading across his ugly mug. He thought he had her cornered – which he did – but she wasn’t going quietly. She waited until swung at her, ducked under his outstretched arm and lunged, jabbing him in the stomach. He sucked in a breath and staggered backwards, more from surprise than pain, but it was enough for Skye to stomp down on his instep, knee his groin and jam the kansashi into his neck. He staggered backwards, tripped over his friend and laid still. The minimal blood assured her that this time her aim was true: she’d missed the artery and hit a nerve cluster. Painful, yet non-lethal.

She remembered now how she’d bent down to grab her shoes and look for the icer before anymore company arrived, but as Skye glanced up she saw it closer than she’d expected.

In the hands of one Senator Christian Ward.

Then all went dark.

 

Skye took a deep breath and slowly pushed herself upright, taking the chance to finally survey the room with her eyes before meeting his.

Christian Ward smiled pleasantly down at her from where he sat upon a rickety old chair. It was chilling. For the first time since meeting him Skye recognised that look with absolute clarity: it was the same agreeable smile her fourth foster father could slip on an off seamlessly between beating the crap out of his wife and offering sweet words of love.

She’d tried so hard to forget.

 

“So, Miss Masters. Any thoughts you’d like to share before we begin?”

 

_“You haven’t told me how to hold up under torture yet.”_

_“We’ll get to that, it’s real fun.”_

 

Skye licked her lip. Tasted blood.

 

“Yeah. I think Hannibal Lector called. He wants his interior decorator back.”

 

Christian’s lip curled.

 

**TBC**


	5. It's a Bloody Hill in a Broken War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: violence, torture and mentions of past abuse; nothing sexual, although Christian is extremely creepy. Please don't read any further if you think you might get triggered!
> 
> Sorry this took much longer than planned, my laptop died and I lost my original draft of this chapter and fell behind on a lot of uni work. Thanks again for all the comments and kudos, I really appreciate them and encourage any feedback/constructive criticism :) 
> 
> Merry Christmas! (Er, although perhaps this isn't quite in the right spirit... Might be time to try my hand at writing fluff after this :P)

**_LOCATION: Unknown_ **

**_TIME: Unknown_ **

 

This Christian Ward was a very different man to the one she’d met that morning.

_But was it only this morning?_ Skye thought. _How long was I out?_

The Christian Ward she’d met then was composed and professional, the very picture of authority. This Christian Ward was… looser, more relaxed; he sat leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and a wolfish grin upon his face. Tie and suit jacket were gone, his top button undone and the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. It was more than simply dropping a façade, it was like he’d shed his skin to reveal what truly lurked beneath.

Skye’s stomach churned.

She blinked against the harsh, fluorescent light that was reflected off the white titled walls and floor, warily gauging her captor. With dismay she realised that the humming she’d heard was simply the lights, which were beyond even her hacking capabilities.

“So… care to tell me why Mr. Coulson sent a pretty young thing such as yourself to make an hour of small-talk with little ol’ me?”

Skye drew a shaky breath and considered her options one final time before answering innocently, “Mr. Who?”

_SLAP_

His open palm connected with her cheek so hard that Skye hit her head on the wall behind her. The chains attached to her shackles rattled where they hung from a hook on the ceiling, echoing through the little room. Before she had time to recover from the shock and disorientation, Skye felt his hands gently cupping her face as he moved to crouch on the floor before her.

“ _Shh, shh_ ,” he soothed, stroking her cheeks and neck and hair. Instinct screamed that she should pull away, but Skye knew better than to provoke him again so soon.

“I’m sorry, but if there’s one thing I just can’t stand it’s a pretty girl playing dumb. Really Skye, you should know better.”

There was that fucking smile again. That apologetic Look What You Made Me Do smile that used to haunt her childhood nightmares on the face of another man. The left side of her face stung, but it was preferable to the itching desire to tear away the bits of skin he’d caressed so tenderly.

He pulled away again and continued to stare at her expectantly. She opted for silence, which seemed to irritate him – for all his claims of patience Skye sensed he was more of an Instant Gratification guy, which he confirmed by casually reaching into his back pocket and drawing out something small and rectangular that fit snugly in his palm. He began to fiddle with it, seeming absent-minded, but she could see that it was a deliberate ploy to set her on edge. It worked.

 She resigned herself to another tact.

“I have a question.”

Christian inclined his head, like a king gesturing to a serf, kindly giving permission to speak when you didn’t deserve to even own a voice.

“If you didn’t know I was SHIELD, if I had you so fooled, then why send your goons after me?”

“Oh come on Skye, you know perfectly well why.”

As much as it pained her she maintained eye contact ( _“to give the impression of confidence”)_ but said nothing.

Christian sighed – loud and exaggerated so that it rippled all through his body. He was even taller than Ward.

“ _Because_ ,” he said, as if explaining something to a child, “your affiliation with SHIELD is but a minor offense compared to the possibility that you might have… _divulged_ certain details about me publically.”

He was still fiddling with the object in his hand, which had begun to make _clicking_ sounds. She resisted the urge to glance down, but when light was suddenly reflected into her eyes she clenched her jaw and gave into his silent demand, looking at the flip knife as he slowly played with it, exposing and hiding the blade again with little _snaps_ as it folded into the handle. Each time the knife was revealed Christian made a point of using its sleek surface to reflect harsh light into Skye’s eyes, forcing her to squint and blink.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply rattled she was, Skye continued, “But you didn’t say anything incriminating.”

“I didn’t have to. I saw that look in your eyes.”

“Well, I would claim not to know what you were talking about, but I think the Murder Dungeon kinda ensures that if I didn’t then, I sure do now,” Skye said dryly.

His grin seemed genuine for the first time since she’d walked into his office.

“No, you could sense something was off about me, I could see it. I’ve seen that exact look before, particularly among certain members of my family. And I know the journalist type, which meant that it was only a matter of time before you went digging further and slandered me in the press.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true.”

He smirked.

And drove the knife into her thigh.

Skye let out a yelp of pain before she could help it and unconsciously reached for the wound, but Christian _tsk_ ’d and grabbed the end of the chain, pulling it through the hook and down towards him, dragging Skye upwards by her wrists until she was hanging with only her toes touching the ground _just_ enough to relieve the pressure in her arms and shoulders.

 He reattached the chain, locking her into position, and this time when he reached for her face he held her chin in a crushing grip, forcing her to look up at him.

“ _That_ was an unkind thing to say.” It was the first time he’d sounded angry.

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, forcing her gaze further upwards.

Towards a camera.

Tucked away in the ceiling corner directly to her left, small and discreet, but that blinking red light was unmistakable. Skye’s eyes traced the cable running from it down alongside the doorframe beneath it, where it disappeared into the next room. The pain had cleared her mind and the beginnings of a plan formed, but Skye knew she had to stall for time.

Christian was rubbing her leg just above where the knife was still embedded as he pressed up against her and stroked her hair with his other hand.

“You reminded me so much of little Rosie in that interview, looking up at me with those big concerned eyes of yours,” he spoke into her neck, making her shiver with disgust as his breath felt hot across her skin. “But she would never have spoken back to me like that. You just insist on continuing to disappoint me Skye.”

He pulled away shaking his head slightly.

She swallowed audibly, wincing when it sounded as frightened as she really felt, which only seemed to delight him.

_Fear. He gets off on my fear._

“Rosie,” Skye gasped. “Your sister?”

“Oh yes, I used to have a lot of fun with her when we were young,” his tone was wistful now and Skye really _didn’t_ want to know why, but she had a feeling that he was already showing her his twisted idea of ‘fun’.

“Used to?”

“Are we continuing the interview?”

He seemed almost gleeful at the thought and she hesitated, not knowing which answer was least likely to get her stabbed again. Although apparently the correct answer wasn’t silence because Christian turned and reached for another blade – a longer, thinner one – that had been resting on a table behind him. Skye couldn’t see what was in it when she was on the floor but now she wished she’d remained ignorant; a terrible attitude for a spy, but they say anticipation is more effective than surprise and she _really_ did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scared. He rested the cool blade against her neck and saved her the trouble of answering.

“The thing about little Rosie is that she was such an obedient little girl who knew how to keep her mouth _shut_.”

With that he gave a flick of his wrist, dragging the knife across her collarbone, tearing her shirt and drawing blood. Skye bit down on the inside of her cheek, determined not to react. He continued his story, clearly enamoured with the sound of his own voice as he punctuated his words with long, shallow cuts along Skye’s arms and torso.

“…Of course, as good as she was, even Rosie needed a little incentive at times and there was nothing my brothers were better at then being _incentive_ … Until Grant had to ruin _everything_ like he always did.”

Her skin was burning and she could taste blood, but still she started and the name. Thankfully Christian was too engrossed to notice.

“Oh yes, he thought he was so _clever_ , thinking she was doing it to herself and hiding all the scissors and knives where she couldn’t find them. It was almost _cute_ watching him be so fucking clueless. But then mother and father sent him away and I had never been _happier_. Unfortunately with him away at school Rosie got some _ideas_ and sent him a letter begging him to come home. So do you know what my _pathetic_ little brother did next? He stole a car, drove back to _Boston_ and tried to burn the house down with me _inside_ …”

Skye was starting to feel woozy, her vision was blurring and she wondered how many more cuts she could handle until she’d pass out.

_But would I wake up again?_

Christian was still talking but he sounded very far away, despite being close enough for his breath stir strands of her hair.

“…so mother sent her away to some _boarding_ school, terrified that she could be Grant’s next potential _victim_. You have to appreciate the irony though, all that _panicking_ over the wrong _brother_ … Hey, are you even listening to me?”

He reached behind her to grab a fistful of her hair and tug her head back to look him in the eye, forcing a choked cry of pain to rip from her throat.

**_BAM_ **

**_CRASH_ **

**_THUD_ **

The door burst inwards and there stood Grant Ward, fully decked out in tactical gear, surveying the scene before him with cold eyes and a set jaw.

“ _Ward_!” she gasped.

Christian froze.

It was exactly the distraction she’d been waiting for.

Mustering what was left of her strength and ignoring the feeling of blood trickling down her aching arms, Skye grabbed the chain above her head and pulled herself upwards, kicking Christian square in the chest. He was so caught off guard that he fell, the knife clattering out of his hand and across the floor.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you again,” she panted.

 

**TBC**


	6. Oh No You Better Get Up My Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: This one's not too violent but blood is mentioned a lot.  
> Sorry for the wait, Christmas/New Year was more hectic than I'd anticipated.  
> Just one more to wrap things up after this!  
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments, hope you enjoy :)

**_LOCATION: Washington D.C._ **

**_TIME: 1925 hours_ **

 

Ward dodged another punch and aimed one of his own at the guard’s kidneys, finishing him off with a mean left-hook.

 

Ward had made it through most of the building without being seen, but it had been painfully slow progress, finding out where Skye was taken and infiltrating the private compound. He’d missed his first chance by tailing his brother, not realising that he’d ordered her taken elsewhere until it was too late. He was then forced to continue shadowing Christian from a distance until the senator finally decided to play with his toy sometime in the late afternoon. Ward followed, growing more and more anxious in the knowledge that Christian would inevitably get to Skye first, but it was the only way he could get there at all.

 

There were more workers at the private office complex than he’d anticipated, too many to go in guns blazing, yet he couldn’t handle the thought of doing nothing and waiting for nightfall. But in the end he may as well have, for it took several agonising hours to bypass security and make his way downstairs to the lower basement levels beneath the car park, at which point encountering security was inevitable.

 

The last few guards were thrown to the floor, unconscious, and he didn’t even pause to catch his breath before striding over their bodies and kicking open the final door.

As always, his eyes were drawn immediately to her.

Skye’s hands were pulled above her head, shackled to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Her blouse was torn open and hung off her frame in tatters, while the blood-soaked camisole underneath was just barely in better condition. Long, thin cuts ran haphazardly across her arms and shoulders, weeping blood that trailed patterns across her pale skin.

“ _Ward_!” she gasped.

His eyes slid towards Christian, who for the first time in Ward’s life, looked at _him_ with fear.

Skye then surprised them both by grasping the chain about her head and using it to pull herself up and aim a solid kick at Christian’s chest.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you again,” she huffed.

But Ward had already marched over to where his brother was trying to scramble up. He grasped the front of Christian’s shirt, ignored his spluttering defenses and punched him in the face. Repeatedly. The sickening crunch of his nose breaking filled Ward with an almost primeval delight, his gun lying forgotten in favour of his own fists. How many times over the years had he worked off steam by picturing Christian’s smug face on the punching bag? More times than he could count, but the reality was far more satisfying.

 

“Ward! _Ward_! _Grant_!”

The sobbing plea brought him back to himself, and Ward looked up at Skye. A wave of self-loathing hit him.

Blood was gushing down her leg, soaking her pantyhose and making it impossible for Skye to maintain her balance on the tips of her toes against the blood-slicked tile floor. The knife in her thigh had dislodged when she’d kicked Christian and the sudden extra blood-loss left her on the brink of consciousness.

Ward swore under his breath, snatched the keys off Christian’s belt and abandoned his unconscious form, released the chain completely, letting it run slack. He scooped Skye up in his arms before she could crumple to the ground, laying her down and deftly unlocking the shackles at her wrists before inspecting the wound. The congealing blood against the dark fabric made it difficult to see exactly where she’d been stabbed and Ward was forced to tear at the hem, exposing the lower part of her thigh before he found the source of the bleeding.

“Fuck. _Fuck_. Skye? Stay with me Skye!” He clamped down on the wound with one hand while his other lightly cupped her face. Her eyes fluttered, but Skye was fading fast. Ward reached over to Christian’s arm and with a swift tug he tore off the sleeve, using it to bandage the wound. He was finishing the bindings, tightening them as much as he could, when he startled - Skye had brushed her (much too cold) fingers against his cheek.

“We need to go. Now.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Ward knew she was right, but he couldn’t resist glancing at his brother’s limp body with contempt before scanning the room for his dropped gun.

“ _Hey_ ,” Skye’s hand had slipped down to rest against his shirt-collar, fingers grazing the skin of his throat, just below where May had rendered him speechless back at Cyberteck. For a second he almost got lost in her dark eyes before he realised what she was silently begging him to do.

 

_Leave him._

He sighed and gently moved Skye so that she reclined against the wall, shifting her injured leg into a better position. When he pulled away and reached for the gun she made a noise of protest.

“I’m not gonna kill him,” he said bitterly as he tucked the weapon into the waistband of his jeans. Ward then crouched beside his brother and fastened the shackles over his wrists, pocketing the key with every intention of throwing it into the first storm drain he saw.

Turning back to Skye with the intention of pulling her into his arms and carrying her out of that hell hole, Ward was floored to see his bruised and bloody rookie already upright and moving towards the door on unsteady feet.

Skye could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin, pushing her onwards and dampening the pain that just out of reach, threatening to overwhelm. She knew that it wouldn’t last, but she only had one shot at sending Senator Psychopath to straight to prison and needed to see if her hunch was correct. Stumbling into the next room her eyes swept over the bodies left in Ward’s wake until she spotted it. A monitor. Hooked up to the feed from the room she’d just escaped.

“Skye, what are you-?”

She sank into the rickety chair at the security desk, inspecting the equipment and mentally calculating exactly what coding she would need.

“Do you have a cell? Or a sat-phone?”

Ward looked at her dumbfounded. Not ten minutes ago Skye was in danger of bleeding to death, and now she was looking up at him with that determined glint in her eye that she always got before a hacking job, as if everything was normal; as if she _wasn’t_ currently in blood-soaked rags after being tortured for several hours straight.

He wordlessly handed over his sat-phone and watched her get to work, typing rapidly and pulling up the recorded footage from before he arrived.

Ward averted his eyes. He checked the doors, but no one was coming. The building had finally fallen silent. Now there was only the comforting clicking of the keyboard that he hadn’t realised he’d missed until now. Something pulled at his chest; a re-surfacing ache he’d been suppressing for the better part of a year.

“One last thing… Done!” Skye swiveled the chair around with a triumphant smile and moved to stand up.

Before collapsing into Ward’s arms, unconscious.

 

**_LOCATION: The Playground_ **

**_TIME: 2000 hours_ **

 

Coulson had stared at the screen for so long his eyes started to burn. As the seconds counted down to the hour May finally popped up on screen.

“Report?”

“Nothing since Trip and I rendezvoused with Hunter a few hours ago. It’s like she just vanished.”

“What’s Morse got?”

“She attempted to set up a last minute meeting with the Senator, but apparently he cleared his afternoon and disappeared on ‘family business’. We’ve been unable to pinpoint his location since, but we know he’s definitely not with his family.”

“Our intel suggests he has a mistress, but we can’t waste time confirming he’s with her.”

“I agree. What ne-”

The screen dissolved into static.

“Fitz! In here _now_!”

The engineer scurried into the Director’s office with Simmons right behind – the pair had been pacing outside his door, waiting anxiously for any news.

“I don’t know what the hell is interfering but I need May back on the line ASAP!”

“Ah, Sir?”

Coulson turned back to where Simmons was pointing at the large letters that had suddenly filled the screen.

 

**I’M SAFE. PLEASE DON’T PANIC. GETTING PATCHED UP. WILL REPORT BACK SOON – SKYE**

 

The three agents all let out a massive sigh of relief, although Coulson’s unease remained.

“It seems odd that she’d ask us not to panic, I mean getting this message is reason enough to _stop_ panicking, right?” asked Fitz, his head swiveled between Coulson and Simmons, seeking reassurance.

Before Coulson could answer Mack stuck his head in the door.

“Uhh, Sir? You’re going to want to check the news.”


End file.
